


Time Stopping

by Baby_Fangirl



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 11:25:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14187873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baby_Fangirl/pseuds/Baby_Fangirl
Summary: Basically how the Carnivorous Carnival should have ended.With Olivia and Jacquelyn together.





	Time Stopping

There’s a moment in everyone’s life when time stops…

Just like that.

When everything comes crashing into proportion, and realisation hits like a tidal wave.

* * *

 

 

As Olivia stood alone on the platform hovering above a pit of starving lions, the realisation set in that it was the Baudelaire children, or her… and if she had the chance to do over, change her mind, save her own life, the woman would have still pushed the children to safety, with no further regards to her own fate.

She didn’t have an enormous fortune. She didn’t have friends, or even a life before her thrilling involvement as a volunteer for the V.F.D… She didn’t have a reason as to why her life might have been as valuable as those of the Baudelaire orphans.

Beneath her, she could hear the roaring of the cruelly starved animals, the sound deafening; and the librarian was forced to picture her death that would silence such tumultuous clamour.

Around her, she could hear the roaring of the macabre audience, with their morbid shouts condemning her to die; all for twisted pleasure.

In front of her she could see the roaring that belonged in Count Olaf’s sadistically cold stare, ruthlessly unforgiving as the tint of his gaze alone almost made her lose her balance upon the board, and in a vicious cycle, Olivia was awfully aware of the roaring lions beneath her.

Her digits clutched tight around the spyglass in defiance, fingertips numb and white with the pressure of her grip as she quite literally clung to her last hope, however futile it may turn out to be.

The Brunette had long-since accepted that ensuring the Baudelaire’s safety would not guarantee her own; the V.F.D had forewarned her that they had lost valuable members of their secret organisation, perishing for the most decent cause; like Montgomery Montgomery, Gustav Sebald, the Anwhistels and of course, Jacques Snicket.

But Olivia had hoped that she’d find a home among the V.F.D, do some vital good in the world that was so cruel as to wage wars against the positive aspects of humanity.

_For in a world too often governed by corruption and arrogance, it can be difficult to stay true to one’s philosophical and literary principles._

She’d hoped to benefit in the world somehow, leave her mark… before she died. And now it was too late.

Holding determinedly onto Olaf’s icy-cold glare, the Volunteer, thickly swallowed, bombarded with jeers and noise, and as a tear slowly rolled down cheeks of soft porcelain, Olivia watched as he sliced the rope, holding her steady, and a sudden blur of black took over.

 ~X~

 

Happy endings are for fairy tales, for innocent children and perhaps adults that are far too sensitive to cope with the idea that not all stories come hand in hand with riding off into the sunset, or true loves kiss or whatever make-believe helps them to sleep at night.

Happy Endings are actually quite rare, and you should know that life will offer no guarantee should you die unhappy.

Yes, happy endings are very rare indeed… but happy middles on the other hand, those make the story worth living.

 

Waiting for the excruciating claws and heinous teeth was a fate almost worse than the result itself, for Olivia was facing a state of sudden paranoia.

Paranoia a noun which means a mental condition, characterized by delusions of persecution; in other words, fearing something that wasn’t going to happen.

In fact, the librarian only just began to realize that she was no longer falling, and instead clinging to something warm, and fast, and as she opened her eyes, something incredibly gorgeous.

“Olivia, have no fears, there is no librarian on the menu today,” a heavily accented voice cut through her terror. She was on a motorcycle that had just made a jump from one side of the pit to the other, catching the dressed-up fortune teller mid-fall. And oh, she was clinging to Jacquelyn Scieszka.

It took a moment for her to catch her breath, somehow, the undercover secretary could still ride the motorcycle with the brunette in front of her, an arm around Jacquelyn for safety, all whilst remaining perfectly calm, with her determined chin struck forward.

“We have to get you out of here,” the blonde insisted, exiting the tent with a cloud of dust as tires scraped dirt, strong arms either side of Caliban as she made a sharp turn towards the clown face gates.

“But the Baudelaire’s!” the brunette exclaimed in protest, glancing back over Jacquelyn’s shoulder at the rapidly receding carnival; they’d come this far and oh so close, and she was not going to let the orphans down again. “We have to turn back!” she pleaded with the secretary.

A sharp and focused gaze faltered from the path to the librarian situated right in her arms, rather touched by her dedication. “No need, Larry is on the case and he will be behind us soon enough in J- … in the taxi with the children. Then we will take all four of you to headquarters,”

Olivia was far from stupid. She easily picked up on how hard it was for the woman to say Jacques’ name, and it registered that she wasn’t the only one who lost a friend that night.

The wind blew cold in her face, and the librarian leant close into the other womans leather jacket, her perfume was delightful and strong and if she hadn’t just narrowly escaped a life-and-death situation, then the brunette might have been able to appreciate it more.

“Thank you for saving my life Jacquelyn,” she whispered, closing her eyes against her chest, purely overwhelmed with the events of the morning, how scared and fearfully determined she had been. The ride was smooth and the hum of the engine soothing, and with the warmth of another body close to hers, it was easy to lull Olivia into a light sleep.

But not before she’d heard the volunteer whisper back, “It was my pleasure,” in a soft and rather teasing tone.

 

When Caliban awoke again, it was not on the motor-cycle, or anywhere else she recognised. In fact… there was hardly anything to recognize. She was on a barren plain, an empty oil canister and more garbage nearby, and a tiny little shelter that once must have been a bus route.

She could tell from the dirt and the dust shrouding the area that no public transport came this way anymore.

A familiar smell kept Olivia calm as she adjusted to the darkening evening; light clouds parted to reveal a picturesque scene, more like a painting with the watercolours splashed across the heavens. It was truly beautiful watching a tangerine sun slowly sinking on a violet sky… Violet!

She bolted upright, Jacquelyn’s leather coat falling from her shoulders. The Baudelaire’s, Larry… where was Jacquelyn?

“Baudelaire’s? Violet? Klaus? Sunny? Larry? Jacquelyn? Jacquelyn, please!” the woman called out to silence; the volunteers hadn’t come back, and she worried herself over what that might mean.

Madame Lulu’s wig had been removed and her hair smoothed out neatly, so Olivia continued her own undressing; detached the golden chains of jewellery, fake earrings, and managed to take out the contact lenses that made her eyes sore.

Finally, she was looking like herself again, just as the blonde came back with an armful of firewood, a charming smile on her lips seeing that the latest recruit had woken.

 “That look suits you so much better than a gypsy,” the words where heavily drenched with her attractive accent, laced with a hint of mischief. She pulled the oil canister forward with one surprisingly strong hand and dumbed the dry wood in the empty container.

It was hard not to blush under the compliment, hands brushing against the jacket that had been left to keep her warm.

“You keep track on how I look?” the wide-eyed librarian teased back, standing up to wander to Jacquelyn’s side, slipping the leather jacket around the blonde’s shoulders in silent thanks, a modest smile on her lips.

The woman let out an amused hum, neither agreeing or disagreeing to the statement as she pulled out a pair of spectacles from her pocket, “Can I use your spyglass?” Olivia hurried to accommodate, handing over the object and the blonde fiddled until she had a steady beam of light directing through the specialised lens, creating a fire that ate up the wood.

“That's incredible,” the librarian admitted in awe, grateful for the heat as the day began to cool.

“That's V.F.D,” Jacquelyn gently smirked, handing back the device, purposefully brushing Calibans fingers with her own, so innocent yet still with the power to make the librarian shudder underneath soft and pale hands.

The brunette hesitated after a moment of vulnerability before pocketing the Spyglass, uncomfortably aware of the woman’s attractively intent gaze lingering on her, with every little movement.

Despite how nice it was to live in the moment, Olivia was unable to live off the vast unknown, when questions poised on the tip of her tongue despite her uncertainty of whether or not she wanted to know the answers.

“Where’s Larry? And the children? It’s nightfall now, you said he’d be right behind us,” in confirmation, the librarian cast her worried gaze back down the worn road, hoping for some headlights in the distance; the headlights of a familiar taxi, with the waiter behind the wheel, and three free orphans in the back… happy.

She felt warm and petite hands cup her cheeks, directing her hopeful glance back towards the secretary’s own calm gaze. Olivia could have sworn that her heart jolted an involuntary motion.

The honey-comb haired woman bristled at the question, bad thoughts plaguing her mind, confirming the brunette’s worst fears. They weren’t here.

“Ssh, Olivia, it’s alright,” Jacquelyn soothed, brushing the tips of her thumbs across the librarians rosy cheeks, catching bitter tears as they fell for the cause of the Baudelaires. She shifted them both so that they sat down on the dusty ground, and allowed the woman to curl up beside her, still shaking.

“It’s not alright, I don’t think anything will ever be alright ever again. Those children mean a lot to me and I couldn’t bare to entertain the idea that something might have-” she was cut off by an unexpected sob breaking from her strong demeanour, leaning further into the secretary whose expression softened.

Jacquelyn wrapped her arms tightly around Olivia Caliban, feeling her quiver like a leaf in the breeze; she felt the brunettes shoulders heave with every soft and tiny cry and the blonde pressed her cheek to the others, whispering comforts into her ear.

The brunette was overwhelmed with the wonderful scent of the womans perfume, like Jasmine, vanilla and ginger combined.

“You’re alright,” she soothed, stroking a strong yet delicate hand down her back repeatedly, “You saved Klaus and Violet from certain death; you are capable of so much more than you dare to give yourself credit for.” Jacquelyn insisted, her tone the perfect balance between endearing and stern.

“I _know_ what you think about yourself Miss Olivia Caliban… you think that you’re still just a librarian, and that no matter what successful crowd you tag along with that you will never be good enough to truly be apart of it. You’re scared to spend too long with another person because it will make you understand just how lonely you have been before that moment,” she spoke, psychologically examining the other woman. “Well, you’re more than that, you are a valued volunteer and we need you,”

Olivia sat back with wide-teary eyes, glancing up to the woman who could have been a legit fortune teller herself. “You- you really think I’m alright?” she dared to inquire, the waver of uncertainty in her voice impossible not to notice, causing Jacquelyn to brush her hand against the woman’s cheek again.

“You’re more than alright,”

With that, the Secretary leant closer and pressed her enticing lips fully against Olivia’s.

Jacquelyn’s cherry rendered lips were delicate yet unyieldingly firm crashing onto the librarians, smooth s marble but warm and inviting. The touch alone could have made Caliban lose herself entirely in this woman.

Goosebumps showered her skin like April rain as the brunette finally raised her hand and let agile digits comb sweetly through soft, golden tresses.

If Jacquelyn believed in magic, this kiss would be her prime example, the way two pairs of lips connected, the affection that radiated from the supple flesh. The secretary’s wandering hands caressed Olivia’s hips, and in an instant their bodies were pressed pleasantly against each other.

They both gasped for breath when it became absolutely necessary and the blonde drank in the sight of the latest volunteer, flushed and breathless, cheeks feverishly red and not a tear in sight.

“What about that?” Jacquelyn inquired with her incredible accent, “Was that alright?” a smirk lined the womans lips as she pulled the woman closer. The librarian was sweetly bathed in the warming glow of the crackling fire, the radiant light that soaked he skin in gold, and her wide, trusting eyes dance with the transfixing flames.

Olivia leant forward to lovingly kiss the woman again with a gentle nod. “It was more than alright,” she whispered, a genuine smile working on her lips towards the woman who had saved her life.

 

A figure moved in the distance, catching both the women’s attention. A figure of a tired man ambling down the road, drawing nearer, a look of defeat etched into his features. The librarian knew that face all too well.

Larry your waiter, without the taxi and without the children.

Running up to meet him on the road, they both took one arm, helping to steady his weary body. He must have walked all the way from the carnival.

“Larry, what happened? Where are the Baudelaires?” Olivia couldn’t reign herself in, desperate to know what unfortunate events had occurred after Jacquelyn so heroically rescued her from the tent.

His hands shook, coughing and spluttering, a lot like that useless banker in charge of the orphans affairs. “There was a fire, Count Olaf took the kids, they burnt the taxi,” the man explained, almost collapsing when they reached the make-shift camp.

Olivia refused to let herself cry. She had done all that she could possible do for the children, she couldn’t beat herself up for this.

It was as if Jacquelyn knew exactly what the brunette was thinking, and took her hand affectionately, lacing their fingers together.

“If Count Olaf has truly taken Violet, Klaus and Sunny, then we will track him down like we have done time and time again until they are rescued, we will not give up hope,” the blonde assured determinedly, smiling bright and directly at the Librarian.

 ~X~

 

It was late into the night, and the brunette cuddled further into the woman’s reassuring embrace and Jacquelyn pressed a sweet kiss to her hair. It had been such a long time since Olivia Caliban had felt so loved.

* * *

 

 

There’s a moment in everyone’s life when time stops…

Just like that.

And everything comes crashing into proportion, and realisation hits like a tidal wave.

The realisation that a librarian was truly, and madly in love with a secretary.

 

~X~

**_ The End _ **


End file.
